


your face did not rot (like the others)

by TolkienGirl



Series: All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [243]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Huan POV, POV Nonhuman, POV Second Person, and trying to mediate squabbles in dog language, set directly post the recent Sticks and Frog fic, the bestest boy is keeping watch over the other bestest boy, title from a poem by James Tate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: The anger is fighting to dig deep inside him. You know that feeling. You have been that anger, earth flying up around your ears, a mad wish for hearts beneath you.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Fingon | Findekáno, Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Huan, Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Huan & Fingon | Findekáno
Series: All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [243]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300685
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	your face did not rot (like the others)

The little ones go out, their breath squeaking and hissing with hurt, and you are sorry. You would have cradled them between your belly and your paws, if you could. You are sometimes too large and slow (in sleepy, unplanned hours) to do any such thing.

With them gone and your master stepping back, back, back, you stretch your long ribs and your long forelegs. Your paws and your head, tucked together, warm the cold stones.

Like this, you wait.

 _He called them—he must have—_ the dear, dark boy stutters. _They…who else could have taught them to say_ cano _?_

Master makes a growl in his speech. _Did you think him so changed? That he wouldn’t take a few kidlets under his care? Treat ‘em as usual?_

_It’s not—I’ve known about the children._

_Aye, Fingon. You’ve known a good deal and not said a blessed word._

You whine, there. Just if it is needed.

The dark one is angry. The anger is fighting to dig deep inside him. You know that feeling. You have been that anger, earth flying up around your ears, a mad wish for hearts beneath you.

(You whine again, but for yourself.)

Master is angry, too. It is too late for him to force the anger out. The rage creeps into his commands, his comfort. If you were smaller (you are glad you are not smaller), it would hurt when he held you, sometimes.

_Cano, cano!_

The name belongs to someone else.

Up, down, sigh, fall. That is how you know a name lives.

Up, down, sigh, fall. You live with him.

 _The broth_. Anger dragged back by the collar, all for the sake of him (eyes closed). _I intended to give him a little broth._

 _Can he keep it down?_ Master is done fighting, at present. He is trying. You do not think the dark one can see how Master tries.

_I don’t know._

Lying, the dark one is. You breathe a long breath for him. Not lying. Not the trick of the stick thrown, then hidden. But hurt and hiding.

Does the dark one know, that hiding does not dig deep enough?

Does the red boy?


End file.
